P s 

1 ^^"^^ 






ERSES 



3y 



Helen Knight Wyman 








FRESI-NTi-l) HY \ 



i'^0'^ 



VERSES 



BY 



HELEN KNIGHT WYMAN 



Privately Prmted 

Cambridge, Massachusetts 

1909 






16 S '09 



These little poems go forth at this Easter- 
tide in loving memory of their author; if 
they bring cheer to any heart that loved her, 
it will be as she would have it. They form 
in no wise a complete collection, but have 
been selected as seemingly typical of the 
poetry and the faith which were so large a 
part of her life. Some of the poems have 
already been published in Good House- 
keeping, The Boston Cooking-School Maga- 
zine, The Wellspring, and The Congregational- 
ist, and are here reprinted by courtesy of the 
editors. 

F. W. C. 



AT HOME. 

In my heart a little bird 
Sits and sweetly sings; 

Soft and quiet is his note, 
Folded are his wings. 

No more restlessly abroad 
Does he seek to roam ; 

Passion does not fill his voice, 
But he sings of Home. 

Quite forgot the wasted years 
Which afar he spent. 

Do you ask the singer's name? 
He is called — Content ! 



Page Five 



SPRING VOICES. 

" Awake! Awake, O Tree! " 

Sings the Wind to the Elm- tree sere; 
And the swaying branches free 
Hear the happy melody, 

" The Spring is drawing near! " 

" Return! Return, O Birds! " 

Calls the Elm to Robin and Wren ; 

And they hear the welcome words — 

The eager, waiting birds — 
And fly northward once again. 

" Open your drowsy eyes! " 

Pipes the Red-breast to the Flowers; 
And the May-flower, where she lies, 
Hears the song, in glad surprise. 

And decks her forest-bowers. 

" Make melody, O Men! " 

Breathes the May-flower's gentle voice; 
And in all their dwelling-places 
Men lift their happy faces. 

And all their hearts rejoice! 

So, if the singing Wind 

Can waken the sleeping Tree ; 
If the Robin's musical word 
By the dreaming Flower is heard. 

And that calls, in turn, to me; 

Page Six 



Then, surely, I may dare 
To sing, as I join my voice 

To Nature's tuneful choir — 

O, Brethren, aspire! 

Let us worship and rejoice ! 



Page Seven 



SILVER POPLARS. 

A perfect day, within a month of days! 
I walk alone amid the leafy ways ; 
I hear the music which the wandering breeze 
Makes in the branches of the poplar-trees. 
A fairy vision seem they to my view, 
All green and silver on a field of blue ! 

In wintry hours oft shall return to me 
That beauteous scene, that elfin minstrelsy. 
Again as now shall I with rapture hear 
That murmur musical with inward ear ; 
With inward sight shall I again espy 
That tracing fair upon the azure sky. 

Happy the soul to whom the gods liave sent 

The gift which brings perennial content! 

He sees, when summer's scorching winds do 

blow. 
The silver moonlight falling on the snow ; 
He hears, when winter sends his chilling 

breeze, 
Summer's sweet music in the rustling trees! 



Page Eight 



FAIR WEATHER. 

First Friend. — " Mary always says, ' Nice day! ' 
whenever one meets her, no matter what the weather! " 

Second Friend. — " The dear soul carries her 
weather with her, you see! " 

Skies are not always bright, 

Birds do not always sing; 
But though by cloud the blue is hid, 

And larks have taken wing, 
The blue is there in spite of rain, 
The music sweet will come again. 

What though thy sky is dark, 
What though thy birds are fled? 

There sunshine make with cheerful smiles. 
Sing songs thyself, instead! 

God's love is there in spite of rain ; 

Sunshine and song will come again. 



Page Nine 



LIFT THINE EYES ON HIGH.' 

What do I see, beneath my feet? 

A plot of grass, a graveled way, 
A tiny bird, a golden flower, 

An animal at play. 

What do I see, above my head? 

The graceful boughs of varied hue. 
The azure ocean of the sky, 

And white clouds sailing through. 

Far, far above, beyond my ken, 
The stars in ordered courses move, 

Obeying Him who guideth them 
In wisdom and in love. 

Look up, O man! from earth below; 

Unto the heavens lift thine eyes ; 
Thy body may to earth belong, 

Thy spirit claims the skies! 



Page Ten 



CARPE DIEM. 

But a few hours of sunshine bright, 
Then twilight and the hush of night. 

A day is done ! 
My soul, use well thy heaven-sent powers; 
Soon comes the rest of quiet hours 

For everyone. 

To-day, thou hast but one day's joy; 
A brimming cup without annoy 

Is thine, to-day. 
Then seize the pleasure on the wing, 
For, as the wise old poets sing. 

It will not stay! 

But if of joy, no less of sorrow 

'Tis true; thou need'st not fear to-morrow, 

Its burden bear; 
One at a time come grief and loss. 
The thorny crown or bitter cross, 

The wearying care. 

One, wiser than an earthly friend. 
Deals out thy blessings, or doth send 

A touch of pain. 
Then why dost thou the future dread, 
When daily strength, like " daily bread," 

AVill come again? 

Page Eleven 



Ever the sunrise hath been sure ; 
Ever the steadfast hills endure, 

The seasons pass. 
When Heaven is constant, why should we 
Bemoan a fate we cannot see, 

Andcry, " Alas"? 

But a short day, of sunshine bright, 
Then, twilight, and the rest of night ; 

Short is thy stay! 
Oh, crowd thy day with deeds of love, 
And He, who looketh from above. 

Will guide thy way ! 



Page Twelve 



HOLY NIGHT. 

Gone is the busy day with all its care, 
Its pleasure past, and all its duty done; 

Or, if undone, too late it is to mourn, 
So let me leave it till to-morrow's sun. 

Let me lie down and seek a child's repose 
Upon the bosom of my Father kind ; 

There not a thought and not an earthly sound 
Shall vex the soul who seeks Thy peace to 
find. 

Wearied and grateful I Thy shelter seek, 
Thou loving God to whom the night be- 
longs ; 
Let day suffice for burden as for joy; 

Night should bring thought of Thee and 
holy songs ! 

As I look backward on the path I trod, 
I lift my thankful heart to Thee above ; 

Humbly I crave Thy pardon, ask Thy care, 
Then close my eyes and trust me to Thy 
love. 

When Thy swift messenger, the golden sun. 
Shoots his bright arrows through my dark- 
ened room, 

Page Thirteen 



I shall awake, strengthened, refreshed, and 
calm. 
As dew-kissed flowers regain their early 
bloom. 

The night is Thine! may I be ever wise, 
Nor cheat my soul of her refreshment true ; 

Why wake to weep, to sigh, or to rejoice, 
Since in a night Thou makest all things 
new? 



Page Fourteen 



I 



NEW AND YET OLD. 
I. 

Lo! the new moon! 

We see her dainty silver boat 
Amid the isles of cloud afloat ; 
Gladly we greet the little bark, 
As twilight melts into the dark. 

And yet — 'tis but our old moon, still, 
That nightly did her course fulfill ; 
Like the angelic hosts, she kept 
Her faithful watch the while we slept. 

II. 
Hail the new day! 

Again the dawn doth paint the skies, 
Again the sea transfigured lies ; 
And, fain to greet the opening day, 
The birds take up their roundelay. 

Yet 'tis the same dear golden sun 
That round the world his course hath run, 
Though never just this pageant gay 
Was spread to welcome in the day. 

Page Fifteen 



III. 

Greet the New Year! 

Yes, once again the chance is given 
To make our Earth a little Heaven, — 
The same dear Earth that seems the best 
Of worlds to those whom love has blest ! 

New coiirage comes, my soul, to thee! 
Face the New Year which is to be ! 
In faith and love its days be passed, — 
Perchance this year shall be thy last ! 



Page Sixteen 



"TRAVELER'S JOY." 

When on some country road you pass, 
And see the daisies in the grass, 
And buttercups that gayly grow 
On slender stalks swayed to and fro, — 
Don't gather every flower in view: 
Leave some for those who follow you! 

When, walking in the city street. 
Some obstacle you chance to meet, 
Remove it with a loving care. 
Lest to some foot it prove a snare : 
'Tis but a kindly thing to do, — 
Think of the feet that follow you! 

And, as on life's highway you go. 
Sow seeds of love, and love will grow! 
Remove the stumbling-blocks aside, — 
Self-seeking, jealousy, and pride, — 
Lest other feet should stumble, too. 
The tender feet that follow you. 

And, when at last these paths you leave. 
Some tears shall fall, some hearts shall grieve, 
Safer and better be the road 
Which once you traveled with your load, 
And men be kinder and more true 
Because their footsteps follow you! 

Page Seventeen 



" EYE HATH NOT SEEN, NOR EAR 
HEARD." 

These glories have we seen — the flush of 

dawn, 
Noon with its radiance, and the sunset glow. 
Starlight serene, and moonlight's witchery. 
Changing each common scene to fairyland ; 

Clouds piled on clouds, like towers and 

minarets, 
Or peaceful skies, without a fleck to mar 
The perfect, liquid blue, and, far beneath, 
Trees decked in fairest green, or gayly clad 
In autumn's robes of russet, gold, and red; 

The verdant fields, the shadowed forest paths. 
Flowers of all tints and shapes (like jewels 

spread 
Where'er the eye doth roam); the dainty 

birds — 
Each little songster in his feathered garb, 
Brilliant or somber, as the Father willed; 

The brook, the pool, the lake, the mighty 

sea, — 
Rippling and sparkling or bedecked with 

foam. 
Awful or beautiful, — in storm or calm; 
Shadows of clouds and trees, that fly and fade ; 
And the majestic presence of the hills; 

Page Eighteen 



But, best of all, " the blessed human face " — 
Eye that can flash intelligence to eye, 
Lips that can smile with Love were words 
unsaid. 



And these loved sounds to mortal ear are 

known — 
The mother's lullaby, the speech of friend, 
Music of be^, and every darling bird 
That wings its airy flight ; the voice of song 
That man gives utterance to, by joy impelled; 
The organ's peal, the sob of violin, 
And multitudinous delights that pour 
From throat of flute and horn ; the sound of 

rain, 
Soothingly falling on the summer leaves ; 
The waterfall, that leaps; the brook, that 

sings ; 
The surf that breaks upon the sandy shore 
Or dashes higher than the crested rock ; 
And that mysterious chant, the pine-tree's 

voice, 
When all beside is still! 

And yet 
Far more of blissful sight and sound He keeps 
Hidden from us until we come to Him! 
Earth is so fair — what can Heaven's glories 
be? 

Page Nineteen 



TO A LOVED ONE. 

The moon will be as fair, the sky at dawn 
With just as lovely colors be o'erspread, 

The silver sea will know no ripple less, 
When I am dead! 

The golden sun will just as gayly shine 
Upon the stately lily and the rose ; 

But on the cloud will be one rainbow less, 
When mine eyes close! 

And tears will fall and smiles will fade away 
And, for a little time, thy heart be sad; 

But in the choir above will sound a note 
Of welcome glad ! 

One more at home — after the stress and 
storm 
Of Life's long voyage upon a darkening sea! 
And, when thou too shalt anchor, one 
more voice 
To welcome thee! 



Page Twenty 



MY SAINTS. 

Not in the catalogue their names are written 
That Holy Church doth keep from age to 
age, 

Yet fondly do I read the cherished titles 
Inscribed on memory's page. 

Mystic Theresa's name is not among them, 
No meek Elizabeth is written there ; 

Or sweet Saint Agnes, with her palm and halo, 
Her white hands clasped in prayer. 

But saints of every day, like many another, 
They lived and loved and strove the world 
to bless — 

The friend, the sister, the unselfish mother 
Whose aim was holiness. 

No candles burn before them on the altar, 
No prayers, in solitude, to them are said; 

But, in the home they blessed, their memory 
lingers, 
And there they are not dead ! 

And on their days of birth, in fond remem- 
brance, 

Before their pictured faces flowers are set — 
Pansy, or rose, or lily-of-the-valley, 

Or fragrant violet. 

Page Twenty-One 



I muse upon their virtues, and remember 
Their lives of charity and faithfulness, 

And, once again, take courage to press for- 
ward, 
My world to love and bless. 



Page Twenty-Two 



THE LAST VOYAGE. 

On a wide and unknown sea, 
Full of awe and mystery, 

Doth a mariner put forth ; 
He hath neither chart nor guide 
For that ocean deep and wide. 

But his needle knows the north! 

And we know that far away 
He will enter a fair bay, 

Where a lordly city stands ; 
Its tall minarets and towers 
And its beauteous pleasure-bowers 

All were builded without hands. 

At the stately city's gate 
Doth a royal welcome wait 

Him who braved the trackless main 
And with joy upon his face 
Shall he enter that sweet place, 

Never to depart again. 

But, across that silent sea, 
With its awe and mystery, 

Do our hearts with sadness yearn ; 
For upon that " solemn main " 
Doth no ship sail back again. 

Doth no mariner return ! 



Page Twenty-Three 



A BIRD AND A SOUL. 

High in the tree-top, near the sky, 

The robin sits and gayly sings 
So cheerily, so well content ; 

Oh ! would that I had wings ! 
There in the tree-top green and high 
I'd sit and sing anear the sky! 

So little care the robin has ; 

So small his world — so wide his heaven 
Alas! that I must stay below, 

Because no wings were given ! 
Must walk, tho' I am fain to spring 
High up aloft, and sway and sing! 

Yet cease, my heart, thy murmuring! 

A joy is thine the bird hath not. 
E'en while thou chaf'st with discontent, 

Complaining of thy lot. 
With fancy's wings thou too mayst rise 
And sit and sing anear the skies! 



Page Twenty-Four 



GOD'S WAY. 

He gave to me my heart's desire, 
And made my lips for joy to sing ; 

Praise and thanksgiving filled the song 
To Him, my Saviour and my King; 

But, ere my notes of praise were done. 
Dark clouds had gathered o'er my sun. 

So dark the clouds, so thick with fear, 
My soul was bowed with care and grief; 

Yet, in the midst of sorrow drear, 

One thought still brought my heart relief ,- 

" The Hand that spreads the clouds to-day. 
Gave thee a blessing yesterday. ' ' 

And so within that hand divine 
My human hand I gladly place, 

And trustingly go on my way ; 

Though clouds conceal His lovely face, 

I know, whatever He may send, 
God is my Father and my Friend. 



Page Twenty-Five 



PROVIDENCE. 

I saw one, girded, eager for the strife, 
Given not struggle, but the Crown of Life; 
And one, sore bruised in the dusty ring, 
Was " perfect " made by years of suffering. 
Far other choice would I have made than this : 
To the first, conflict; to the second, bliss! 
Lord, can I not at last to Thee resign 
My life, my soul, and every wish of mine? 



Page Twenty-Six 



"ACQUAINTED WITH GRIEF." 

The heart of man is like the violin — 

That wondrous instrument of wood and string : 

To any touch it vibrates in reply, 

Though with no depth of tenderness it sings. 

But let a master lay his skillful hand 

Upon the bow, at once awakes to life 

The strange, sweet pathos that within it 

dwells. 
Then doth the listener strain his eager ear 
To catch the notes of almost human woe ; 
Tears fill his eyes, and, in the night, he wakes, 
Hearing anew those exquisite, low tones. 
And sighs for very pleasure in its pain ! 
Smiles beget smiles, and joy to joy is kin ; 
Therefore, if one is glad, he gladness shows 
To thee, and thanks thee for thine answering 

smile. 
'Tis easy thus to voice the sympathy 
That in thy breast springs up to instant birth, 
But only he on whom God's hand has lain 
In chastening, and again in pitying love. 
Can win the secret of another's woe! 
And, soon or late, upon each human heart 
Is felt the pressure of that hand divine. 



Page Twenty-Seven 



THE FRIEND. 

When my heart was sad, 

Came a song from out another day, 
And it made me glad 

That it helped a comrade on his way. 

When my sky was drear, 

Came a friend and laid her hand in mine ; 
And it gave me cheer, 

Thinking of that other Friend divine. 

Heavy is my load ! 

But the Friend unseen doth walk beside, 
And He knows my road. 

And He chooseth all that shall betide. 

So again I sing. 

Though my heart lies heavy in my breast, 
For my Lord and King 

Granteth me His promised peace and rest. 



Page Twenty-Eight 



TWO POINTS OF VIEW. 

When I am tired and weary, 
And nothing goes my way, 

I thank the Heavenly Father 
For two nights to every day. 

But when, once more, I'm rested, 
And all the world looks bright, 

I thank Him that He sends me 
Two days to every night. 

There's the pause before the battle, 
There's the respite from the fray: 

And that is how I reckon 
Two nights to every day. 

When the sunset glow has faded, 
In a little while 'tis light ! 

And that is how I reckon 
Two days to every night. 

And so 'tis due, believe me. 
To the way we look at things, 

Whether we sigh and falter. 
Or whether we soar on wings! 



Page Twenty-Nine 



FOR A NEW YEAR. 

What is a year? 
'Tis but a longer day, 
With dark and light, 
Hours sad or bright, 
And time for work and play ; 
After the daylight follow rest and sleep. 
" Dear God " (we pray), " in peace our loved 
ones keep! " 

What is a life ? 
'Tis but a longer year — 
Its spring of youth. 
Its autumn's ruth, 
Sweet summer, winter drear; 
After its seasons, follow rest and sleep. 
" Dear God " (we pray), " in peace our spirits 
keep! " 

What is forever? 
Only years and years, 

Without the grief and tears — 
All beauteous summer. 
No more wintry fears ; 
Because " No night is there," no need to 

pray, 
For God in safety keeps us through that day! 



Page Thirty 



GIVE THANKS. 

" Somewhere, the birds are singing, evermore." 

— Longfellcw. 

Somewhere the blithesome birds are gaily 
singing, 
Tho' all thy birds are fled; 
Somewhere the fairest buds are sweetly 
springing, 
E'en tho' thy flowers are dead. 

On other lands the sun's glad rays are shining, 

As here they fade away ; 
And, where in night thy life is darkly shrouded, 

Somewhere 'tis fullest day. 

Our Father's eye beholdeth every creature, 

Not one too weak or small ; 
No bird is mute but He the silence marketh — 

He listeneth for them all. 

And if thy note is absent from the chorus. 

Thy voice thou dost not raise. 
He misseth just that little added cadence 

From the great song of praise. 

Oh, let no sorrow cause thy voice to falter! 

Each heart hath joys untold ; 
No one of all God's conscious, living creatures 

His love doth not enfold. 

Page Thirty-One 



Thy woes are His, thy burdens He is bearing. 

Canst thou not calmly rest, 
And sing with heart and voice, the while re- 
posing 

Upon His tender breast ? 



Page Thirty-Two 



THERE ARE NO BIRDS IN LAST YEAR'S 
NEST. 

" No birds in last year's nest! " you say? 

Ah, no! 
For they have flown away, away. 

From frost and snow. 
In other lands they gayly sing, 
Where winter is replaced by spring 

And roses blow. 

Yet are we happier for their song, — 

Ah, yes! 
Although their stay could not be long, 

They came to bless ! 
E'en though the nest is empty now, 
Hung on the mossy apple-bough 

With carefulness! 

So, though the dear ones whom we loved 

Are fled. 
They live within that land above, — 

They are not dead! 
They needs must leave this world of woe ; 
But, where perpetual roses blow, 

They sing instead. 

Their coming gave us far more bliss 
Than pain ; 

Page Thirty-Three 



And, though their voices do we miss 

And seek in vain, 
We know that those whose love is ours 
Await us — in those heavenly bowers 

We'll meet again! 



Page Thirty-Four 



ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

Written for the anniversary service held in the First 
Congregational Church, Sutton, Mass., May 15, 1904, 
on the occasion of the town's bicentennial. 

Mother, again for thy dear face we yearn! 
Thy sons and daughters now to thee retiirn ; 
Far have we wandered, over land and sea, 
But come again to seek our home in thee ! 

In distant cities, 'mid their din and strife. 
Through storm and stress we lead our toilsome 

life; 
But for a while the sounds of labor cease — 
In thy sweet shelter find we rest and peace ! 

Deep in our hearts our love for thee doth 

dwell, 
And fervent lips to thee that love would tell. 
Proud of the past, and of the future sure, 
By us upheld, thine honor shall endure ! 

Welcome us, Mother! as we come again 
To greet each fertile field and peaceful plain ; 
Trees, clap your hands! Ye little hills, rejoice! 
As we to God uplift both heart and voice. 
Thee, Lord, we praise, to whom our all we owe : 
To Thee be glory given above, below; 

Page Thirty-Five 



Earth's fondest love to us Thy love hath 

shown — 
So may our lives Thine endless life make 

known. 



Page Thirty-Six 



ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

Written for the Diamond Jubilee celebrated at the 
Prospect Street Congregational Church, Cambridge, 
Mass., September, 1902, 

Here in Thy temple, Lord, we bow, 
And offer up our prayer and praise ; 

As did our fathers, do we now 

Acknowledge Thee in all our ways. 

Upon Thine altar burns the flame 
They kindled in the days of old ; 

Here do Thy servants still proclaim 
The message by the Gospel told. 

We thank Thee for the words of cheer, 
Of comfort, counsel, hope, and trust. 

Whose deathless echoes still we hear 
Although the lips that spake are dust. 

We bless Thee for the saintly lives 

Whose fragrance still these walls enclose. 

Like the sweet perfume that survives 
The form and color of the rose. 

Abide Thou with us, Lord, we pray; 

As once the sires, the children bless; 
Here may we serve Thee day by day, 

Walking in ways of holiness. 

Page Thirty-Seven 



And, as our voices now we raise 
In fervent gratitude to Thee, 

Thine be the honor and the praise, 
And Thine may all the glory be ! 



Page Thirty-Eight 



THE COURT OF THE KING. 

Oh, say! have you been 
To the court of a king? 
There are jewels and laces, 
And fair women's faces, 

And " orders " in plenty, and music so sweet. 
And the rushing of feet, 
As his errands they do ; 
And his courtiers bring 

All his subjects, with speed, to the court of 
the king. 

You have seen the night's pageant — 
The court of the king : 
His planets and stars — 
(Stately Venus and Mars 
And the countless bright throng 
That in heaven belong). 
" Rain and snow, cloud and vapor, 
And wild winds " you've heard 
" Obeying His word," 
And they ceaselessly sing. 
And His praises do ring, in the court of the 
King! 

Pray, should you be sad 
If a summons you had 
To the court of a king? 

Page Thirty-Nine 



I think you would heed, 
And quickly would speed, 
With jewels and lace and joy on your face ; 
With his messengers go, 
If they came for you so, 
Saying, " Majesty calls! 

Come, haste to his halls — to the court of the 
king! " 

Then why should you fear 

A message to hear 

From the King of all kings? 

His firmament rings 

With messages many ; 

His angels do speed 

To mortals in need ; 

No halls are so stately, with music they ring! 

And thy loved wait for thee. 

As mine wait for me, 

In the court of the King. 



Pag? Forty 



A TREASURE. 

Only a little golden ring 

That in my hand I hold, 
Yet it is worth far more to me 

Than just its weight in gold! 

For, on a birthday, long ago, 

My mother gave it me. 
And, with loving words, on my girlish hand 

She placed it tenderly. 

Only a little golden ring! 

Yet it binds me to the past ; 
My girlhood's days I seem to see, 

As upon it my eye is cast. 

There were many friends whom I dearly loved 

Whom I gladly would behold, 
But none whose love was so pure as hers 

Who gave me my ring of gold! 

Only a little golden ring! 

But it binds me to the skies, 
For there, by faith, her form I see. 

As I look through tearful eyes. 

If those lips might speak to me again. 
And the clasp of those arms enfold! 

For one mother-kiss I'd gladly part 
With my little ring of gold ! 

Page Forty-One 



TO MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 

How full and strong is now the voice 

That was on earth so dear! 
And with what joyfulness of heart 

She joins the chorus clear! 

And yet, methinks, she sometimes seems 

A coming one to wait, 
And, leaving some sweet heavenly task, 

She listens at the gate. 

Often in childish days gone by 

My lingering feet delayed, 
And, waiting there, I saw her stand. 

Anxious and half afraid; 

Ah ! sweet it was to know that love 

So watchful was alway. 
And then to enter by the door 

To which she led the way! 

O Mother ! when my earthly bark 
Shall touch the golden strand, 

Thine be the voice to welcome me, 
Thine be the outstretched hand! 

And, waiting but to press me close, 

And clasp my hand in thine. 
Then straightway lead me to our Lord, 

Saying, " This child was mine." 

Page Forty-Two 



" This is the soul Thou gavest me, 
To wean from self and sin, 

And now, at last, my love has won. 
My prayers have drawn her in." 

O Home above, so glorious, 

So wonderfully fair, 
A Home indeed 'twill seem to me, 

To find my Mother there. 



Page Forty-Three 



MOTHER AND SON. 

On seeing a painting in the Art Club Exhibition in 
Boston, 1905. 

One says, " I have no time for Motherhood — 
Fashion and pleasure, art and toil forbid." 
(As if, forsooth, a blossom had no time 
To look to heaven, or a bird to sing!) 

O Baby, Baby, lying on my heart, 

Time is not lost spent in thy company! 

I'd rather fold thy tiny, velvet feet. 

Or feel thy kisses on my brow and cheek. 

Or thy soft, dimpled arms about me clasped, 

Than be an empress on an Eastern throne. 

I'd rather have but thee for audience, 
Winning applause from thy sweet, rosy mouth 
And clapping hands, than face a staring crowd, 
E'en though I walked on " roses all the way." 
What satin shimmering on a woman's breast 
Is half so soft as is thy little palm? 
What ermine, thrown around her neck, can 

bear 
Comparison with thy soft ringlet's wave? 
What scent of violet or sweetest rose 
So fragrant as thy innocent, soft breath? 

What music sweeter to a mother's ear 

Than is that infant voice that lisps her name 

Page Forty-Four 



Or laughs aloud, in happy, baby glee 
At color, motion, toy, or flying bird? 

No joy of modeling from the soft clay, 
Or using color, with a master's touch, 
Can match the pleasure that a mother has 
Clothing the fragrant flesh in raiment soft, 
And fashioning for him all fair array 
Who is her gift of God, her very own. 

What pleasure dearer than a child to rear, 
Watching him grow in wisdom and in grace, 
Winning his heart, for God, in earliest years, 
And teaching him to speak His holy name 
Whose children are we all? As time goes on, 
And the fair, growing lad in stature grows 
(Like to the Boy who to the Temple strayed, 
And listened to the Doctors of the Law) , 
How proudly does the mother watch her son, 
Though he outstrips her wisdom by his own ! 

When the years pass, and she is growing old, 
Fashion will pall and Pleasure flee away, 
But what is fonder than the manly kiss 
From bearded lips, or the young arm's strong 

clasp 
About the mother thrown in tender love ? 
Who can be prouder than that mother when 
Her son doth thrill a listening multitude. 

Page Forty-Five 



Or sing the song that wakens hearts to life, 
Or place on canvas beauteous scenes and fair, 
And thus, with his gift, bless a waiting world? 

When Death shall come and hold her by the 

hand. 
Think you he is not welcomed with a smile. 
Because some darling (lost while still a babe, 
Now grown like to 'the angels), beckoning 

stands 
And whispers, " Mother " as he leads her 

Home? 

Ah, thou, sweet Mary, Maid of Galilee, 
Hadst thou too busy been, 'mid humble tasks, 
The Angel of Annunciation fair 
To welcome, as thy lowly home he sought. 
Truly, no sword had pierced thy blessed heart, 
But, thou hadst not been mother of our Lord. 



Page Forty-Six 



BABY SISTER. 

The angels came and brought her 

(So everybody said) , 
A darling little daughter 

By mother's side is laid. 

Her sweet eyes won't stay open, 

So tired she must be, 
Coming down all those shiny stairs 

To reach the nursery. 

But I am going to stay awake 
And see the angels, when 

Another baby-girl they have 
To bring this way again. 



Page Forty-Seven 



THE MOON AT MIDNIGHT. 

I wonder what's the matter 

With the moon's face, Mother dear? 
It looks so very different, 

So swollen-up and queer. 

Perhaps it has a toothache, 

Or else the man inside 
Ate too much cake or candy, 

And very nearly died! 

It isn't near so pretty 

As it looked right after tea ; 

Then it was round and golden, 
And faces made at me. 

I guess I'm better, Mother, 

That pain has gone away ; 
(There isn't nearly so much fun 

At night as in the day). 

Good-night, old Moon, I'm sorry 
Your man has such a pain. 

Now, Mother, carry me to bed 
And tuck me up again. 



Page Forty- Eight 



THREE GIFTS. 

I am curtained away from the night, 

On the hearth the fire bums bright ; 

My lamp is trimmed and lit, 

And I sit in the glow of it ; 

As each moment fades and dies, 

In my heart these thoughts arise : 

I thank Thee, O God, for Fire! 
As I watch the flames aspire. 
My thought, too, soars above 
To the Heart of infinite love ; 
May my soul burn and glow. 
As more of Thyself I know! 

I thank Thee, O God, for Light! 
As I sit by my lamp to-night. 
This prayer, O Lord, is mine: 
That I, too, may softly shine 
To guide, to bless, to cheer 
Thy children, O Father dear! 

I thank Thee, O God, for Home! 
How many there are who roam, 
Far from the Father's roof 
Holding themselves aloof! 
May my door be open wide 
To Thy wandering ones outside! 



Page Forty-Nine 



Warmth is the heart of the Fire. 

Oh! may my fond desire 

Be, gracious Friend, to prove 

The depth and the breadth of Love. 

So kindle more love divine 

In my heart, by the love in Thine! 

Cheer is the soul of the Lamp. 
Tho' the night be dark and damp, 
And the merciless, pelting rain 
Beats on my window pane, 
Within doth Cheer prevail — 
May my soul-cheer never fail ! 

Love is the center of Home. 
Whene'er its inmates come, 
Love greets them and leads them in 
To her innermost shrine within. 
So, Lord, in my heart and face 
May Love find a dwelling-place. 

Warmth and Cheer and Love — 
All sent by the Giver above ! 
My heart sings for thankfulness. 
And Thy holy name doth bless ! 
Yet these, Thy gifts so rare. 
Help me, in love, to share. 



Page Fifty 



A HEART AT LEISURE FROM 
ITSELF." 

Tis Cheer the sad world needs — 

Anyone can sigh! 
Just smile and give a gleam of sun, 

As you pass by. 

'Tis Love it's waiting for — 

Only just a bit ! 
Oh! can't you let your love go out 

To brighten it? 

'Tis Friendliness it craves — 

Be thou a friend! 
And loving tears thou shalt not lack 

When comes the end. 



Page Fifty-One 



MY JEWELS. 

Gems are mine, more rich by far 
Than the costliest diamonds are; 
And they, one and all, may be 
Found in Nature's treasury. 

Deeper than the sapphire's glow 
Is the glorious sea below ; 
And the topaz rays I love 
Has the sunshine up above. 

Green the emerald is, and rare — 
Swaying trees are yet more fair! 
Purple violets, dew-kissed, 
Love I more than amethyst. 

All the rubies that I know 
Pale before the sunset glow ; 
But the pearl — I see it gleam 
In the witching moonlight's beam. 

Though an empress gave to me 
Crown and scepter as a fee, 
For her gems I would not part 
With my own, untouched by art. 



Page Fifty-Two 



SUMMER IS GONE. 

Summer is gone, the butterflies are dead, 
The little birds fly southward one by one ; 

No longer elm and maple widely spread 

Their boughs of emerald 'neath the shining 
sun. 

The roses, too, are dead — woe and alas! 

" So sweet a season and so soon to pass! " 

Yet look again, sweet maid, and sigh no more ; 

With red and gold the bowers of Autumn 
shine. 
Russet and crimson deck the tree-tops still, 

And gayly paint the tendrils of the vine ; 
The wee, brown sparrows twitter, chirp, and 

fly.. 

And glorious sunsets light the western sky. 

All is not over because Summer's fled! 

'Tis but a little while ere back again 
Will come the blithesome robin and the wren. 

And herald the sweet queen with all her 
train ; 
Far sweeter blossoms yet shall climb and creep 
Where the dead roses lie in dreamless sleep. 



Page Fifty-Three 



THREE. 

Three comrades walked with me when life 

was new, 
And one was Youth, whose brow from care 

was free ; 
The second one was Joy, who danced and 

sung; 
The other, Hope. These kept me company 
Until a day when Youth " farewell " did say, 
And left me at a turning of the way. 

Fair Hope walks with me still, but keeps her 

eyes 
Lifted to where the hills of Heaven shine ; 
And Joy (whose other name is Peace) remains, 
Though in her face I see a light divine ; 
But well I know, when past earth's toil and 

pain. 
Sweet Youth, once lost, will then be mine 

again. 



Page Fifty-Four 



TRANSITION. 

All solitary and unheralded 

Lovely Diana doth her progress make ; 

The swaying boughs the secret whisper not, 

The little birds keep silence for her sake, 

Till, at the eventide, one doth espy 

Her silver bow athwart the primrose sky. 

When the fair Spring from absence long 

returns, 
Hastening her faithful friends anew to greet, 
All unannounced she cometh; unawares, 
She works her yearly miracle ; her feet 
So swift and soundless are that while we hear, 
'* Spring-time is coming! " lo, she doth 

appear. 

So, without tumult, in the hush of night, 
Steal forth the conquering armies of the snow ; 
No watching sentinel beholds their march. 
So noiselessly and stealthily they go ; 
Yet, when we rise from sleep with heavy eyes, 
On every side the town beleaguered lies. 

And ever joy comes to us unawares; 
Love leads us captive, by a sweet surprise ; 



Page Fifty- Five 



Our happy days are those we looked not for, 
And Sorrow oft steals on us in disguise ; 
So, silently, the while we hold our breath, 
Our loved ones leave us for the arms of Death. 

Ah! thus for me, when some fair, summer 

dawn 
Tints with her tender color sky and sea, 
And the tired boatman hails the welcome land 
As he rows back from Night and Mystery, 
May angel voices whisper, " Fear no more! 
Thy bark is anchored on the Deathless 

Shore." 



Page Fifty-Six 



^»— » 



